He's in Denial
by Daytripping
Summary: Pre-RENT. This is about Roger Davis coming to terms with his feeling for his roommate, Mark Cohen. Slash, but not too hardcore! My first attempt at just about anything, so bear with me. I own nothing!


**Okay, so this is my first attempt at a RENT fan fiction, my first attempt at slash, and my first attempt at a one-shot. Please bear with me xD I tried my best! I hope none of the words I used don't make sense, because I tried to make it sound more sophisticated than it really was. Anyway, this is just about Roger coming to terms with his feeling for his roommate, Mark. Hope you enjoy! -Daytripping

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Roger Davis sat with his back against a wall, head in hands, staring at his shoes, which seemed particularly interesting at the moment. The large, brown boots were his only distraction from the thoughts he desperately wanted to leave his mind. For the fortieth time, the guitarist ran a hand through his blonde hair. The leather jacket zipped up around him still couldn't keep out the deep chill that was always present in this hell of a home, and even that penetrating cold couldn't keep the thoughts out of the man's mind.

The door to the loft suddenly slid opened, pulling Roger out of his dazed state. Unfortunately, standing there was the one man he didn't want to see.

"Hey, Roger." Mark greeted in an overly-cheerful tone that drove Roger wild. The director unwound his prized scarf from around his neck and tossed it on the couch as if there was nothing wrong.

This is weird, Roger noted. Normally, his best friend could read him like a book. The apparent scowl on his face would normally have Mark beside him in seconds, asking him what was wrong and if there was anything he could do to help. For a moment, a spike of disappointment drove through his chest, but Roger quickly ignored it and stood up, intent to get out of Mark's presence as soon as possible.

"Roger?" Mark questioned as he set his camera bag down on the couch, just now noticing the angsty mood Roger was in. "What's up?"

Roger just waved his hand in a disdainful manner before stalking off into his bedroom. Taking a moment to relax, he laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Roger knew that within thirty minutes, Mark would be knocking on his door, asking to talk. Roger figured he'd deal with that when the time came. Suddenly, a sharp knock rang out through his room. Fuck, he'd overestimated.

"Hey, Rog. What's wrong?" Mark's voice asked, muffled by the door.

Roger remained quiet, staring at the door with a loathing look for several seconds. There was no way in hell that door would be opened anytime soon, as long as Roger had something to say about it. Apparently, though, Roger didn't have any say in it, because he soon heard the familiar rattle of the doorknob that meant Mark was trying to pick the lock. The man lept over the end of the bed and grasped the doorknob firmly, determined to keep the filmmaker out of his room. Keep him out of his mind.

Now was one of the times Roger was grateful for being stronger than his friend, because the minute the lock clicked, Mark started trying to shove the door open. Luckily, Roger had his shoulder up against it, and the man on the other side of the door didn't stand a chance.

"FINE!" Mark shouted, finally giving up his futile attempt. "Don't let me in. Keep me locked out! You always do, don't you, Roger?" Mark fumed. Roger could almost hear the angry flush rising in his face. It was always so cute when Mark got angry...

Stunned at his own thought, Roger backed away from the door. A few seconds of silence passed, neither man saying a word to the other. After a minute, Mark slowly opened the door and walked in. His eyes scanned Roger, trying to figure out what was making Roger act so strange.

"Roger..." Mark murmured comfortingly, reaching out a hand to his friend. "I can't help you if you don't...don't tell me what you're upset about." Mark looked almost surprised when Roger didn't back away. "You can tell me, you know. No camera this time."

Every emotion possible raced through Roger. Fear, hate, denial, love, and...lust? Roger could feel Mark's thumb tracing comforting circles on his hand, and it sent a heatwave through his entire body. In spite of himself, Roger could feel his lower regions twitching.

"Roge-" Mark started again, but was cut off by the hard force of Roger's lips against his own. For a few seconds, Mark didn't respond. The guitarist kissed with as much passion as he could muster. He absolutely refused to get denied by the one he'd been fighting with himself about for so long. It had been a long time since Roger had kissed anyone, and it felt comforting when Mark finally started kissing back. Roger could feel Mark smile a bit beneath the kiss, and Roger pushed against him.

After a few seconds of heated touching and rough kissing, Mark pulled away, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. Roger eyed him intensely as he dug around in his pocket.

"You know, I met a girl today." Mark said, pulling the piece of paper out of his pocket. Roger could see the paper had a hastily scribbled phone number below it, and the name "Maureen," with a small heart beside it. Another chest-stabbing pain hit him, but Mark was only smiling.

Roger watched as Mark walked over to the nearest window and slid it open with ease. With a quick look over his shoulder at Roger, Mark tossed it out onto the street below. Smiling, Roger walked over and wrapped his arms around his best friend, locking their lips together once again.

The note fell, fluttering through the air, being blown around by the slight breeze. It sunk to the ground directly in front of a woman, a lawyer, on her way to work.


End file.
